The challenge was to supply the cover photography and name for a book.
A Mexican Retiree’s Guide to Sloth
The Inept Photographer’s Guide to Beach Photography
Finding A Direction in Life
PB & Jellyfish
Natural Recipes
for Long Life and Happiness
Pond & Garden
Filling her Shoes
(Confessions of a Birkenstock Stepmother)
Beach Love Affair
The Prompt: Local Color—Imagine we lived in a world that’s all of a sudden devoid of color, but where you’re given the option to have just one object keep its original hue. Which object (and which color) would that be?
If all at once, all color were bleached out from the world
and suddenly a universe of whiteness were unfurled—
the rainbow, flowers, trees and art all newly bleached and pearled—
I know what single object I would choose to retain
in all its colored glory, in every hue and stain,
in sun and shadow, snow and hail and dust storm, drought and rain.
Its natural color changes every day we see revealed
over every continent: forest, city, field—
over every place from which the colors will be peeled.
This one glorious object would retain its vivid hues.
It would be the whole world’s canvas and every poet’s muse.
Every lake and river, its reflection would infuse
with all the colors nature has selected for that day:
blue or gold or purple, salmon, orange or gray,
according to whatever whim of moisture, dust or ray.
If I select the sky as the object that I’d choose
to retain its myriad pigments that only start with blues,
there are a thousand colors that we wouldn’t have to lose!
And the whole world could see them in the daytime or the night.
All the colors of the rainbow would not be lost to sight,
as every day and every hour, a new one’s brought to light.
Today’s prompt is always one of Judy’s favorites: Ready, Set, Done — Our ten-minute free-write is back! Have no mercy on your keyboard as you give us your most unfiltered self (feel free to edit later, or just publish as-is).
The lil yeller feller decided to give it a try, but he can only type about one word a minute, so he drafted me to type as he dictates. Trouble is, he only speaks a rare Mexican dialect of Quack that I’m not familiar with. I typed what he said, but I’ll need a translator. Anyone out there know what he’s trying to impart?
(You can read about lorem ipsum here. I just discovered the term a few months ago.)
I am presently with my childhood friend in Cancun. It is a very strange trip that I’ll explain later when I’m not writing on a Kindle.
Today’s Daily Prompt: Imaginary Friend – Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood.)
(Judy’s in Cancun, where the rain & exterior gloom have been incessant, and the internet access has been intermittent. Sounds like it’s the proverbial weather only fit for a duck. We’ve exchanged a few emails, which inexplicably take one to six hours to arrive. She asked me to post this in response to today’s prompt.)
(As for me, all my friends were real when I was a kid, but I was pretty sure I was imaginary. As an adult, I’m now certain of it.)
I’m leaving for Cancun tomorrow morning (Oct. 21) at 6 a.m.–before the prompt will be posted. Since I’m not taking my computer, I probably won’t be posting for 5 days and no doubt will be suffering from withdrawal..first days since April 1 that I will not have posted. Please don’t forget me. Perhaps you could look back on past posts you haven’t read yet. If you have a recommendation for readers about what posts to read, please make suggestions in the comments below. Thanks for coming to see me so faithfully. I’ll miss y’all. Judy
P.S. There is an off-chance that a mystery writer will be filling-in posts on my blog while I’m gone. If so, don’t miss his posts as he is smart, clever and a bit crazy. Best type of posts!!!
The Prompt: Circuitous Paths—A stranger knocks on your door, asking for directions from your home to the closest gas station (or café, or library. Your pick!). Instead of the fastest and shortest route, give him/her the one involving the most fun detours.
I know you’re in a hurry ‘cause you really need to gas up,
but there’s a special place near here you really shouldn’t pass up.
It’s a pool with thermal water where you could swim and play.
I’ll even give you passes so you won’t have to pay!
Just go to my corner and turn right and drive until
you come to the clubhouse. It’s just one block down the hill.
Turn into the entrance and park in the parking lot.
You’ll see the pool down below with water steaming hot.
I’ve got suits in every size and color here for you to borrow.
Just take them home to dry and you can bring them back tomorrow.
And after you have had a soak or done your final lap,
perhaps you would enjoy a little massage and a nap.
There’s a really gorgeous spa that’s just a half mile from our pool.
A mile-square Aztec temple, it is really, really cool.
A family of stone carvers have worked there for thirty years.
Masters all, their artistry is simply without peers.
First two huge plumed serpents frame a staircase up the mountain;
and when you’ve reached the top of it, a hot volcanic fountain
spills into a chamber beneath house-sized Olmec head,
where you can float away your worries in this watery bed.
Then a few short steps away, kind hands await you there
to massage away your worries and remove every care.
This time isn’t free, but it will be worth every cent.
Believe me, you will never have a regret that you went.
An hour later, you’ll feel liquid flowing down that stair.
Every tension gone from you—removed from toe to hair.
And at the bottom of the stairs, near one more thermal fountain,
a string of temazcals are carved into the living mountain.
Little individual caves with natural heat and steam
coming from volcanic water passing in a stream.
The view is of the lake below and also your own mind.
The introspection fostered there is one that’s hard to find.
Afterwards, you’ll wander a short distance farther down
to a huge palapa restaurant with a menu of renown.
The view from it, amazing: mountains, lake, volcano,
village, palms and flowering trees, spread out far below.
Have a drink and have a meal before you must depart.
And on your way, take time to view their pre-Columbian art.
The carved stone steps, the vine-swathed pillars—artistry abounds.
Everywhere you look in these enchanting magic grounds.
Chac Lan, or Monte Coxala is what they call this place.
The Lake is Lake Chapala that lies spread out at its base.
And further up the hill, just a mere few blocks away,
is another place you’re welcome if you want to stay—
the place I always come back to, no matter where I roam.
The name is “Casa Florencia,” but I just call it home!
The thermal waters are here, too, the artistry and flowers.
Beneath the towering palms and vines and bougainvillea bowers,
Quetzalcoatl winds his sinewy self above my door.
and carved in stone, holds wide his mouth so waters from it pour
into my pool, steaming hot, to mix with water cooler.
The measurement of pleasure here is not done with a ruler,
but by gauging mentally how cares might pass away
on this hill called home where the plumed serpent holds his sway.
Afterwards, drive down the hill a few blocks, perhaps eight.
The guard will bid you good-bye as he opens up the gate.
Turn right at the Carretéra and a mile or so away
is where you may gas up and then be on your busy way!
These pictures are all of my house. If you’d like to see Monte Coxala, use this link.
The Prompt: Reverse Shot—What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.
My earliest memory is waking up in my crib and making a noise to let my mom know I was awake and then watching her walk in with a big grin. I remember very clearly thinking how delighted she was to see me and how anxious she must have been for me to wake up! Ha!
Mommy Think
I can hear the baby stirring, but she’s quiet for now. I guess I’ll try to finish the Daily Crossword before going in to see if she’s really ready to get up from her nap. If she’s wet or restless, she always lets me know—the same gurgle as usual, but a bit louder, to make sure I notice.
The divan I’m lying on is so close to the open door to her room that there’s no chance I won’t hear her if she really needs me. Hmmmmm. A Hawaiian goose. I’ve seen that a dozen times. Nene, I think.
Oh, Oh. There’s that little singing purr. She’s ready. So much for the puzzle for a little while, until I get her changed, liquified and busy with her toys in her playpen.
There she is. So adorable, peeking out from between the bars of her crib. I can see her eyes dilate when she sees me, one chubby little arm reaching through the bars, hand out, fingers spread. Waving hello like her sisters taught her. Face open in the biggest grin to see her mom. It’s like looking in a mirror. I can feel that same grin stretching my own cheeks. I can’t believe I’ve created this sweet girl. Me, the laziest woman on earth—I made this!
She’s gotten heavier and OUCH! those little fingernails need trimming. She wraps her chubby legs around me like a vise. Fat little toes for gobbling as I change her diaper. That strange arrow birthmark pointing straight down and filling the vee between her legs like a direction signal. So strange. My first child to have marks of any kind–the small port wine stain on her neck, and this larger brown birthmark in such an odd place. So glad this big one will never really show that much so long as she has any clothes on at all.
She’s perfect, so far as anyone else knows. I’ll put her with a cookie and orange juice in her bottle into her playpen and finish my puzzle. No need to change her clothes. Her dad will be home soon for his afternoon break and he’ll have her filthy from his field clothes within seconds of entering the house. They’ll both be asleep within minutes–him in his rocking chair with his feet up on the footstool and the glass of iced tea I’ve brought him sweating on his chair-side table, her stretched out on her tummy on his chest, little cheek pressed against his neck, wheat chaff and field dust on her sleeper and making light depressions on her cheek. I’ve never seen a man who loves babies more. When we don’t have one of our own, he borrows them from tourists in the restaurant where he meets his friends for coffee in the afternoon. “Want me to hold your baby for you while you eat?” he says, and they always say yes. The novelty of the big farmer in the J.C. Penny’s khaki work clothes and the straw hat holding their little city baby? They just wish they’d brought their camera in.
Hmmm. A South American Country. Peru? No, that’s just four letters. Chile? There’s Ben’s truck. Guess I’ll get the baby out of the playpen and have her waiting at the door for him when he comes in!
The Prompt: Reverse Shot—What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.
(P.S.This is a pretty unremarkable post for my 300th posting, but I have an eye appointment in an hour so must hurry. Perhaps I’ll do another post later in the day…It was fun trying to write from my mother’s perspective. Sorry it had to be so hurried.)
(P.P.S. The eye doctor never showed up, although I waited an hour. I was sure it said I had an appointment in my calendar. I must need my eyes examined!)
2017 Note: It’s been three years since Word Press used the prompt “recreate.” At that time, I used the prompt to make my 300th blog entry. Now I have penned (or shot) my 3,444th entry, so it seems appropriate to reblog it. Thanks for reading it—and perhaps for reading it again.
One Word Photo Challenge: Mint
See the prompt for this challenge here.
These photos are posted in response to Cee’s Fun Photo Challenge—Vibrant Colors. To see other photos submitted, go to:
http://ceenphotography.com/2014/10/14/cees-fun-foto-challenge-vibrant-colors/
Not quite an egg whisk, not quite a hat.
Here’s the prompt and more pictures of headgear, but don’t be disappointed–none equal this!
http://sundaystills.wordpress.com/2014/10/12/sunday-stills-the-next-challenge-guess-the-challenge/#comment-14124
